


only wanna dance with you

by imyoursandthatsitwhatever



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Billy is Pining, Dancing, Dirty Dancing References, First Kiss, Getting Together, M/M, Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington Friendship, Steve is oblivious but what else is new
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:47:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23647192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imyoursandthatsitwhatever/pseuds/imyoursandthatsitwhatever
Summary: It all started with Patrick Swayze.Steve, Robin, and Billy navigate the summer together: A story in three parts.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 42
Kudos: 221





	only wanna dance with you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FlashMountain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlashMountain/gifts).



> Dedicated to Simon - Your writing always inspires me.

* * *

**  
part i **

_love isn’t always magic  
_ _sometimes it’s just melting  
_ _where it’s black and blue  
_ _where it hurts the most  
_

-andrea gibson  
  


* * *

  
The thing is, the first time Robin comes over that first summer, Steve doesn’t really know how to _act_. Like, he knows they almost died together, and he knows she genuinely gives a shit about him, but they don’t actually know each other that well yet. Somehow, learning Robin’s deepest, darkest secret feels like he’s barely even scratched the surface.

So, as usual, he tones it down. When he wants to reach out, get close, he stays a respectful distance. He isn’t _clingy_ , okay. Not anymore. He’s trying to be better. _Normal._ Robin’s the first friend he’s had over to his house who’s older than fourteen and he doesn’t want to fuck this up by being weird.

He sits a respectful distance away from her on the couch. He puts a pillow between them when they lie on his bed getting high. He doesn’t even hug her goodbye when she leaves. He doesn’t do any of those things because he doesn’t even know if Robin _likes_ being touched. And he’s trying to be better. More considerate. It’s a little harder than he thought it’d be, ‘cause he’s an affectionate person, but he thinks it’s for a good cause.

It’s just started to rain when he hears the knock on the door. He stumbles out of bed, glancing at the red letters blinking on the clock. 12:53. Oh Jesus, something’s _wrong_. 

Robin’s on the other side of the door. Her eyes are wet and red-rimmed and she’s hugging herself around the middle, hunched over like she has a really bad stomach ache. She’s reaching for him before he even knows what’s happening, arms wrapping around his neck, body sagging, and she’s _holding_ him like he’s the answer to every problem she’s ever had.

“Hey,” he whispers, gently weaving his fingers through her hair. It’s soft and smells like strawberries. “I’ve got you.”

And God, he’s wanted this for _so_ long. Not only to be touched, but to be _needed._ And yeah, he and Robin are just friends, and he’s glad they stayed that way. Because it means things are never going to get _complicated_. He needs that in his life—Something easy. Something that makes sense without having to stare at it for two hours like a math problem. Robin makes sense to him. He trusts her. And maybe, since she’s _here_ , that means she trusts him too.

He tucks his hands under Robin’s thighs and lifts her up, her legs wrapping around him immediately as he walks her over to the couch. Carrying her is easy, and suddenly he remembers when he used to do this with girls at parties to try to make himself look cool, and laughs at himself. He used to care so fucking _much_ about what everyone thought. Now, he only cares about who the hell made the coolest girl he knows so fucking sad.

When he sits on the couch, she curls up into his lap, her head tucked right under his chin. He can feel her breath tickling his collarbone as he pulls his arms tighter around her.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he asks, his words muffled by her ponytail.

“Fuck no,” she murmurs, her voice trembling. He feels something wet hit his chest and he realizes this is the first time he’s ever seen Robin really _cry._ It’s unsettling and horrible and he just wants to make it better.

“Okay,” he answers simply, reaching for the TV remote. He finds The Golden Girls and leaves it on, because he remembers that Robin hasn’t stopped talking about this show since it premiered. _Betty White is a fucking icon, dingus. You’ll get it when you watch it._

He feels a small laugh vibrate against his chest and he smiles. Maybe he’s doing something right. He takes a chance and starts rubbing little circles into the back of her neck—she sighs contentedly, nuzzling up against him like a cat.

It’s then that Steve realizes that maybe Robin was waiting on him, too. Maybe she was trying to feel him out, see what _his_ boundaries were. And then got to a point where she didn’t care enough to pretend anymore.

She’s always been braver than he ever was, anyway. And that might be why this means so much now—That when she couldn’t be brave anymore, when she had to break down, she came to him. She came to _Steve._

He hears a soft intake of breath followed by a quiet snore and laughs a little. After he mutes the TV he carefully undoes her shoe laces, slipping her Converse off and setting them down on the coffee table. His mom would kill him if she knew but as usual, she isn’t around to make a fuss. He reaches behind him for the down blanket resting on the back of the couch and covers them both, shifting backwards a little so he can lie down properly.

Robin is warm against him as Steve closes his eyes to sleep, and it isn’t weird, it just feels _nice._ It feels nice to hold someone. Even if that someone is currently drooling on his shirt a little bit. 

He’ll give her shit about it tomorrow. 

Maybe.  


* * *

** part ii **

_every time you smoke a cigarette  
_ _i want to rip it from your mouth  
_ _i don’t know how to say this  
_ _except that it breaks my heart to think  
that anything could take you from me  
even a moment before it has to_

-fortesa latifi  
  


* * *

After that night, things are easy between them—effortless, really. Steve could lay his head down in Robin’s lap and she would know that he wants her to play with his hair. She tugs at it, scratches her fingernails against his scalp, even braids it sometimes, and he’s never felt more at home in his own body. It’s his favorite summer to date.

Robin graduates top of her class the next year. Steve sits in the audience and _might_ have cried a little bit when he heard her speech, but no one can prove that. Billy wasn’t there. Steve had heard from Max that he’d started a job at a local mechanic, after getting his diploma by taking the few classes he’d needed from the school in the next town over. Billy stops by Family Video every once in a while to rent a movie, and they’d gone out to the quarry to smoke together one night, but other than that, Steve doesn’t see much of him.

August comes too fucking fast and Robin heads off to Indiana State on a full ride. Steve helps her pack her shit up, even drives with her down there to help her move in. When he drives away, leaving her waving at him on the sidewalk, his heart crawls up to his throat and stays there the whole drive home.

A year passes before it feels like he can even blink. The kids are halfway through high school and they’re busy with projects and girlfriends and other teenage bullshit, so he sees a lot less of them. Dustin and Suzie break up in April, so for a while, Steve keeps himself busy helping Dustin nurse his broken heart, mostly with the help of gummy worms and _lots_ of pudding. Then Dustin meets a cute girl in Chemistry class, of _all_ places, and Steve is left alone again.

When Robin comes back for summer vacation, she drags Steve to the premiere of Dirty Dancing, and when they get home, she _demands_ that he lift her up like Swayze. He tries, he really does, but he’s not exactly ready when she jumps and they both end up a mess of limbs on the floor, carrying a couple bruises into the next week as battle scars. She laughs and swats at him, and he thinks he might be bleeding somewhere, but it’s okay. It’s fun. It’s _easy,_ with Robin.

He slips up later that night, when they’re getting high out by the pool. They’ve got two chairs pulled together, their legs tangled together, when he breathes the tangy smoke into the air and whispers, “I think… I have a thing for Billy.”

Billy could lift Robin like Swayze. Hell, Billy could lift _Steve_ like that _._ Could lower him down, real slow, faces close enough to touch— _Jesus_. His mouth is watering and his dick is kicking in his jeans just from the thought.

“I think you do, too,” Robin replies, giggling, as she takes the blunt from between Steve’s fingertips and sucks on it.

He sits up in surprise, nearly knocking them both over. “Were you ever going to _tell_ me?” Steve asks incredulously. He’s a little high, so he’s seeing two Robins right now, and he doesn’t know which one to glare at.

“Oh my God, Steve. I didn’t know I had to _inform_ you who you have a crush on.” Robin sighs dramatically and passes the blunt back to him. “You’re like a little baby deer. So helpless.”

Steve groans and collapses back against the pool chair.

“How did you know I like him?” Steve asks, finishing off the blunt and flicking the roach somewhere near the pool’s edge.

“Well, first of all, you visited him in the hospital, like, every day,” she begins matter-of-factly.

Steve’s mouth tastes like cotton when he answers, “I was driving Max there, Robin. I was being a _good Samaritan_.”

“Oh, and were you being a good Samaritan when you spent nights there? _Nights,_ as in _plural,_ as in more than _once_?”

She has a point. Who is he kidding? Robin always has a point.

“He was alone, you know? And he _saved_ us. And I wanted…” _I wanted him to know I was there for him. That I could keep being there. If he wanted._

“ _Steve._ ” Her voice is gentle, _soft_ in that way that wraps around him and makes him feel like nothing could ever hurt him again. She’s holding his hand. Her black nail polish is chipped, it’s always fucking _chipping_ , he wonders why she even bothers with it. But then he remembers that Robin doesn’t expect things to be perfect, or even want them to be. She likes things just the way they are. She likes _Steve_ just the way he is.

He finally looks up at her, and she’s grinning at him. “Steve, I’m going to tell you a story, okay? All you have to do is listen.” Her voice is a little wobbly from the weed, but even while high, Robin’s a good storyteller. He lies back against the chair and folds his arms over his chest, waiting patiently.

“Do you remember that day last summer, when you had that really bad cold and you couldn’t make it into work?” Robin asks. Steve looks up at the stars, trying to map out some of the constellations Dustin had showed him, as he nods.

“Well, Billy stopped in that day. Thursday afternoon. Like he _always_ does.” Steve wonders why she’s putting such heavy emphasis on the word. He knows Billy always stops by Thursday afternoons. It’s why Thursdays are his favorite day to work. Billy gets off work early from the garage on Thursdays, Steve doesn’t really know _why_ , but he comes in with his coveralls tied around his waist and smelling like grease and it’s always the best part of Steve’s day, by a long shot.

“He came up to the counter, glanced around, and asked if I was working alone today. I said you had _abandoned_ me in favor of being ill. And do you know what he did?”

“No. What?” Steve asks breathlessly. What could Billy possibly have done that day in Family Video that warranted an entire fucking story about it?

“He walked out of the store, Steve. He didn’t even rent a movie. Just walked out. Do you know what that tells me, dingus?”

God, he’s so high right now. Her voice sounds far away and his heart is beating like a fucking drum in his ears. “No, I don’t,” he answers honestly, ‘cause he just really needs her to give him the answer. He can’t guess when it comes to Billy. With Billy, it has to be a sure bet.

“Billy doesn’t come to Family Video every Thursday to rent movies, Steve,” Robin says softly, tapping her thumb against his hand, “He comes to see _you._ ”

Steve lets her words hang in the air for a second, imagines them attaching themselves to the stars up above and spelling it out for him.

_He comes to see you._

He’s out of his chair before he even knows what he’s doing, swaying a little. Robin scrambles up to tug him back down before he falls face-first into the pool.

“Oh my _God,_ ” Steve says as he collapses back onto the chair, putting his face in his hands, “How could you let me be such a goddamn idiot? Is it _fun_ , watching me being oblivious?”

“I mean, I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a _little_ fun,” Robin jokes, nudging her shoulder against his. “I knew you needed time to figure it out. You can’t rush these things.”

“Yeah, but Billy probably feels like _shit_ because he’s been dropping hints since like, day fucking one and I didn’t _notice,_ Robin.”

It’s like sand has been scrubbed from his eyes and he can finally _see_. He’d stayed in the hospital that first night because Billy had _asked_ him to. Billy had grabbed his hand as he stood up, looking at him frantically, still hooked up to that goddamn breathing machine because his lungs were too fucking weak. Steve had just thought he’d wanted someone to keep him company. His big, dumb, ugly brain hadn’t thought for even a second Billy wanted _him_ , specifically.

And then, the way Billy had _looked_ at him when he finally got that awful tube out of his throat. How he’d smiled and asked hoarsely, “ _Am I dreamin’, or is that you, Harrington?_ ” Like he’d been _waiting_ to say it. Like he’d spent weeks picking out the perfect fucking line.

It all comes back to him in startling clarity, now. How he’d wake up in the morning, in that really terrible plastic chair, to Billy staring at him. How Billy would suddenly turn his head and pretend to look out the window. How the nurse greeted Steve that morning he brought bagels—“Oh, you must be _Steve_ ,”—like Billy had been _talking_ about him. How Billy had asked _Steve_ , not Max, to check his chest when he thought he’d ripped open a stitch.

And the Thursday afternoons. Steve was so dense he didn’t even realize Billy was coming to rent a video every Thursday afternoon because he wanted to see _him_. And, now that he’s thinking about it, Billy probably gets off at 2:00 every Thursday at the garage because Steve gets off at 3:00 on Thursdays. And that’s probably something that Billy fucking _knows,_ ‘cause Steve is pretty sure that he works later nights at the garage the rest of the week. Thursday’s probably the only day he can free up to swing by.

“Robin, I _have_ to go see Billy. Like, now,” Steve says, getting to his feet, “But first, I have to get… uh, _un-high_. How do I get un-high?”

He feels a warm hand on his back, leading him towards the house. “You need water, snacks, and a cold shower,” Robin replies confidently, “Let’s go, dingus.”

The shower is a brilliant idea, really, because Robin turns the dial just cold enough to shock him back into reality, but not enough to make him hypothermic. ( _However_ , it’s a close thing.)

He eats the haphazard sandwich she shoves in his face and chugs a glass of water while she towel dries his hair for him.

“How long have we been married?” Steve asks in amusement as she grabs the blow dryer.

“17 years. And you forgot our last anniversary. Dick.” She shoves his head down and starts violently blow-drying, ignoring his protests as he tries to choke down the last piece of sandwich in his mouth.

She leaves him to style his hair and skips off to his bedroom, muttering something about picking out an outfit for him. She returns with a pair of dark wash jeans and an emerald green sweater.

“I haven’t worn those jeans in years, I don’t even know if they still _fit—_ ”

“Okay, Steve, newsflash: Billy is _very_ into your ass. I’ve seen him look at it. He is not a shy guy. These jeans are going to be tight on your ass and Billy’s mind will be properly blown. And before you ask about the sweater, the color green just so happens to go very well with the color brown, and from the many times I’ve watched Billy gaze longingly into them, I can safely assume he is also a fan of your big, dumb, Bambi eyes. Any further questions?”

Steve shakes his head, eyes wide, and slips the jeans over his boxers. They fit like a glove. _Especially_ over his ass.

“Are you a genie?” he asks, staring at Robin suspiciously as he tugs the sweater over his head. It’s really fucking soft. He hopes Billy will want to put his hands on him when he sees it.

“Not a genie. Just call me your fairy godmother,” Robin sing-songs as she throws his car keys at him, watching him almost spectacularly fail to catch them, “I have a feeling you’re not gonna be back, so you can drop me off at my place on the way there.”

“What do you mean I’m not gonna be back?” Steve asks, horrified, before the joke clicks. “ _Oh_ ,” he says softly as she digs through the bathroom cabinets, finding a bottle of cologne and spritzing him a couple times.

“You have his new address, right?” Robin asks as they head outside towards his car.

“Yeah, I remember where it is. I dropped him off there once.” _After we smoked together out at the quarry all night. I thought about kissing him before he climbed out of the car, but I didn’t because he was too fucking beautiful and I was too fucking scared._

Robin gives him a thumbs up from her living room window after he makes sure she gets inside, and then the lights are switched off in the house and he’s alone again, pulling away from the curb and racing down the street towards Billy’s apartment.

He feels an eerie sense of calm as the turn draws closer, even though he knows he should be shaking out of his skin right about now. Somewhere between nights at the hospital and Thursday afternoons, Billy had become _important_. And when someone’s important to you, you’re supposed to tell them. _Friends don’t lie._

The street sign comes into view and he turns the wheel easily. His hands aren’t shaking. He isn’t nervous. He actually feels better than he has in a long time, because he’s pretty sure Billy has been _waiting_ for Steve to show up at his door.

The night is quiet save for the occasional chirp of a cricket as he climbs out of the car, looking up at the apartment complex. Billy’s on the ground floor, in the back of the building, and his feet are taking him there and before he really even registers what he’s doing, he’s knocking on the door.

There’s a muffled curse inside as something falls to the ground, and then the door is being wrenched open and Billy is standing there, eyes wild and body coiled up tight. His expression immediately softens when he sees Steve, and the frying pan that was clenched in his hand falls to the floor for what appears to be the second time, judging from the sound. Steve stares at it for a second before clearing his throat.

“Hey,” he says, mustering up a smile because Billy is still kind of staring at him like he’s trying to figure out if Steve is real. He’s got a dish towel thrown over his shoulder, his white undershirt stained with some sort of orange sauce, and Steve belatedly realizes he’s interrupted Billy making dinner.

“Hey,” Billy answers back, looking at Steve warily. His hand is still outstretched where it had been holding the pan, and he clenches it back into a fist. “What are you—”

“I’ve recently been informed that I’m an idiot. I mean, I knew that before, but I’ve reached like, a pretty incredible level of stupid at this point,” Steve starts, rubbing the back of his neck self-consciously.

Billy’s eyebrows fly up in surprise. “You’re not—”

“No, I really am. I’m really stupid, Billy. It took me getting high tonight to figure it out, because I was too scared to admit it before. And I’m sorry for all the time I’ve wasted.”

Steve lets out a shuddering breath; he watches Billy’s brow furrowing in confusion and he imagines reaching out to smooth it with his thumb.

“I think you’ve been trying to tell me something, and I wasn’t getting it,” Steve starts softly, stepping closer to the doorway. Billy looks a little taken aback, but he doesn’t move. “See, I always looked forward to my Thursday afternoon shifts ‘cause I knew you’d be stopping by. It never occurred to me that you might have a different reason for coming to the store other than, you know, renting movies. I thought you just really liked _Rocky,_ I guess?” Steve laughs quietly, glancing down at the ground. He and Billy are inches apart and he swears he can hear Billy’s heartbeat.

“I was thinking tonight, after I dropped Robin on the floor, that you could totally lift me up like Patrick Swayze does and I just, _really_ like that about you.” Steve sighs, tearing his gaze from the floor to glance at Billy, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement as he nods for Steve to go on, “I really like _a lot_ of things about you. And I need you to know that I thought about kissing you that night after the quarry, and I thought about kissing you before that too, and you’re honestly the most beautiful thing I’ve ever fucking seen and I didn’t know how someone like you would ever want to be with _me_ , and I know I’ve been stupid, but I—”

He feels his sweater being tugged forward, and then Billy’s lips are moving softly against his, and Steve breathes a sigh of relief into Billy’s mouth as he winds his arms around Billy’s neck.

Billy feels so fucking _good,_ from the hard planes of his abs pressing against Steve’s torso to the needy way he licks into Steve’s mouth as he walks them backwards. Steve feels his back hit soft cushions and Billy lifts his arms above his head, holding him by the wrists, as he sucks on Steve’s bottom lip. He feels Billy move against him, the fabric of his sweatpants doing nothing to hide how hard he is, his cock brushing against Steve’s thigh and sending a burst of heat straight down to his groin. Billy slots his knee between Steve’s legs, pushing up against him, and Steve groans into his mouth and frees his hands from Billy’s grip, tugging at Billy’s curls to pull him closer.

“You’re not,” Billy breathes between kisses, “ _Stupid,”_ his tongue licking sweetly across Steve’s cupid’s bow, “You just can’t take a hint.”

Steve laughs and Billy swallows it down, smiling against Steve’s lips as he slips his hand under the sweater to run his fingers over Steve’s chest.

“This sweater is real fuckin’ nice, pretty boy,” he murmurs, running his free hand down the soft fabric, “But I have to say, your jeans are _really_ doing it for me.” His hand dips lower to palm at Steve’s ass through the denim and Steve _keens, ‘_ cause Billy’s built like a brick shithouse and has the fucking hands to match.

He swears he can hear Robin laughing all the way across town.

“ _Fuck_ , Billy,” Steve groans as Billy scrapes his teeth along the side of his neck, wriggling underneath him as Billy sucks a mark into the sensitive skin there.

“What’d you say before, about me bein’ like Swayze?” Billy murmurs, nuzzling his way up Steve’s neck and placing a chaste kiss against the shell of his ear. 

“We watched Dirty Dancing, and Robin wanted to do the move, you know, where he lifts her up? And I couldn’t catch her when she jumped, I fuckin’ dropped her on the floor and went right down with her,” Steve giggles, fisting his hands into the worn fabric of Billy’s tank top, “But I was thinking that _you_ could lift me up like that, no problem.”

Billy stares at him for a second, a mischievous smile playing on his lips before he’s suddenly hopping off of the couch.

“All right, pretty boy, let’s do it.” Steve takes a moment to admire the rippling muscle of Billy’s arms as he pulls him up from the sofa, all the work Billy’s put in since he’d almost fucking _died_ right in front of Steve’s eyes two years ago, before Billy’s pushing him to the other side of the living room. Steve watches in amusement as Billy stretches and cracks his neck back and forth, before crouching down and holding his arms out. 

Steve takes a moment to carefully push the furniture back towards the wall, and hesitantly slips off his shoes.

“I can lift you, no problem, but you’re gonna need to use your core to actually hold yourself up like she does,” Billy instructs, as if he’s teaching a fucking _yoga_ class. Steve laughs and rolls up the sleeves of his sweater, bouncing lightly on his feet.

“Yeah, yeah. Make sure you plant your _fucking_ feet,” Steve replies haughtily before he takes off running, leaping into the air and—

And Billy catches him, like it’s nothing. His legs are kicked out behind him, his back curved up towards the ceiling, and his arms are out like he’s fucking _flying._ Billy gives him a twirl for good measure, before gently lowering Steve down, achingly slow, their bodies sliding together deliciously until they’re face to face. Steve wraps his arms around Billy’s neck and they spend the next few minutes kissing soft and slow, Billy still holding him up off the ground like he’s weightless.

Steve giggles as Billy starts walking him backwards towards what he assumes is Billy’s bedroom door, scooting up to wrap his legs snugly around Billy’s waist as he carries him across the kitchen.

“You takin’ me to your bedroom, _Johnny_?” Steve asks on a breathy sigh as Billy forcefully kicks the door open.

“Would you rather me fuck you in the corner, _Baby_? Cause you know, nobody—”

“Oh my _God_ , just shut up and kiss me.”

* * *

**  
part iii  
  
** _you do not have to be good.  
_ _you do not have to walk on your knees  
_ _for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.  
_ _you only have to let the soft animal of your body  
_ _love what it loves.  
  
_ -mary oliver  


* * *

Steve _insists_ Billy meet Robin the next week, because she has to go back to school soon, and he has to politely remind Steve that he has already met Buckley, many times, _at your dumb fucking video store_ , _Steve._

_It’s not the same, Billy, we weren’t dating then,_ Steve argues, so Billy rolls his eyes fondly, kisses Steve and whispers, _You know I’ll do whatever you want, baby._

So that’s how they end up at Steve’s place, sprawled out on the couch watching The Breakfast Club, because it’s the only movie they all seem to agree on.

Billy had been given a previous heads-up that Robin and Steve were usually kinda touchy with each other, and Steve had told him like he’d be _threatened_ somehow. It was real fuckin’ cute, is what it was.

He likes Buckley, probably more than he’s ever liked a girl in his damn life. She’s smart as a whip and she’s got a hell of a lot of fire in her, which Billy can appreciate. But most of all, he _knows_ she played a part in getting Steve to his front door that night. And that she picked out those _jeans_. God, those fucking jeans. So, she’s more than okay in his book. If she wants to cuddle up to Steve a little bit, she’s earned it as far as he’s concerned.

Plus, he clocked it a long time ago that she likes girls. That helps, too.

Robin and Steve are so damn _natural_ with each other, the way they sprawl out on the couch together, legs all tangled up. Billy tries to think of a friend who he felt that comfortable with, and comes up empty. Heather, maybe. It was always real easy to work with her at the pool—when no one was looking, she’d make crazy faces at him up on the lifeguard stand to try to make him laugh. His heart starts to ache a little bit, wondering if he could have had a real _friend_ in her. Wondering what her life would have been if it hadn’t been cut short.

Steve seems to notice his stormy expression and leans over to brush a kiss against his ear. “You okay?” he asks, his arm tightening around Billy’s waist. Billy smiles back at him and leans in to kiss him real soft and slow. Robin makes a gagging sound from nearby.

“I’m all right. Just got a little in my head is all,” Billy murmurs, resting his forehead gently against Steve’s. Steve nods like he understands, a fond smile tugging at his lips.

“So, _Hargrove_ ,” Robin begins, reaching over to poke at Billy’s leg with a socked foot. “I hear you can give Swayze a run for his money.”

Billy throws his head back and laughs, grabbing her foot and giving it a vicious tickle before she manages to pull it away, screeching.

“You bet your ass, Buckley. You want me to prove it? Heard good ol’ Stevie dropped you on your ass when he tried.”

“That he did,” agrees Robin sagely, Steve sputtering in indignation as she hops from the couch. “Let’s get to it, then.”

“All right, girlie, let’s see what you got,” Billy replies smoothly, getting up to push the coffee table towards the fireplace. He watches Steve settle in comfortably against the couch cushions, ready for the show to begin. Billy rolls his sleeves up and stretches his neck and arms out real quick, while Robin takes some practice jumps across the room.

He looks over at her, her eyes sparkling with mischief, and sees this for what it is: An offering. _We can be friends, Hargrove. Just don’t drop me on my ass._

Billy gestures at Robin with his hand, his body poised and ready—and without hesitation, she takes off towards him from the other end of the living room. He has only seconds to marvel at her confidence in him before she’s flying through the fucking air, soaring right above his head, and he has to step back a few paces because she’s gone too fucking _far,_ but by some God-given miracle he still catches her, hoisting her up above his head and whooping in relief.

She’s laughing as he twirls her around, which quickly devolves into screeching when he drops her and swiftly catches her in his arms.

“Oh my _God_ ,” she exclaims, draping a hand over her eyes dramatically as she hangs loosely in his hold, “I’m _swooning_ , Hargrove. Now put me down.”

Billy does as he’s told, depositing her carefully onto the ground, before she’s running full tilt past Steve and up the stairs.

“Steve, I’m borrowing your mom’s video camera. Hargrove, you better get ready to do that again!” she screams from the top of the stairs before she disappears down the hall.

Steve laughs and pulls Billy down onto the couch with him, pressing him gently into the cushions. “That was pretty sexy,” Steve breathes, nuzzling against Billy’s cheek.

“Only wanna dance with you, baby,” Billy murmurs, feeling like his heart’s about to burst through his ribcage as Steve’s brown eyes go all _soft_.

“Jesus Christ, I leave you two for ten seconds and you’re already horizontal,” comes Robin’s voice from behind the couch. Steve clambers off of Billy, and Billy wants to kiss every inch of the blush spreading across his face and down to his chest.

“You’re on film duty,” Robin announces, handing Steve the video camera once she gets it all queued up. He starts rolling and Billy shoots some finger guns his way while Robin makes a big show of stretching. 

Steve shoots him a tender smile from behind the camera, and Billy feels a light blush burning its way across his cheeks—and worst of all, it’s been caught on _film._

But as he glances over at Robin, who’s grinning at him widely as she rocks back and forth on her feet, ready to run at him again, he thinks he might want to watch this back again someday.

Because somehow, without even asking for it, without even daring to _hope_ , he finally has everything he’s ever wanted. Steve Harrington, looking at him like he’s something worth having, worth _keeping._ And Robin Buckley, the first real friend he’s ever had.

And if it took Patrick Swayze to get him here, well—he might just owe the guy a big fucking thank you.   
  


* * *

**Author's Note:**

> come chat with me on tumblr @imyoursandthatsitwhatever 💕


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